Today, all five of the gargoyles he expected to see were there, and on counting the last, he shuddered in relief. The question had been answered. He did not need to give Seanna another chance. Then, as he approached the bus stop, he heard Seanna’s smug voice say, “I spy with my little eye, one hidden gargoyle.”
“Where?” Keith said as he peered around. “I don’t see anything.”
“For ten bucks, you will.”
“Fuck you, Seanna.”
“You wish, zit face.”
The other kids laughed. They always did, no matter how unimaginative her insults, no matter how many times they’d been the targets of them. It was as if she held them all under her sway. But none so much as Lance.
“Give you five for it, Seanna,” Abby said.
“Make it six plus your Twinkies.”
Abby handed over the bills and the snack, and Seanna whispered instructions. Abby gave a slow look around, careful not to tip off the others. Then she chortled. “Got it! One more for my May Day list.”
Lance tried not to look for the gargoyle. He desperately tried. But his heart started to pound, his mouth going dry, and he knew if he didn’t look, he’d spend the day obsessing over it. He would give a quick glance, and if he didn’t immediately see?—
He spotted it peeking from under a roof edge, its color blending with the stonework, and he could tell himself that’s why he’d never seen it before. It was the comfortable answer. It was not, however, the truth. As for what was the truth? He didn’t know. No one did. No one cared. To them, it was no differentthan a rainbow, a glimpse of everyday magic. To him, it was an uncomfortable reminder of factors he could not control, could not predict. The odd boy out, as always.
That unexpected sixth gargoyle meant he had to give Seanna one last chance. He spent the next five minutes frantically searching for another gargoyle to change the answer. When the bus came, he reluctantly followed the other kids on, still gaping about.
No gargoyles were coming to save him. They’d given their answer. One last chance.
He went to slide into the seat with Seanna. She thumped her backpack down on it and gave him a sneer.
“As if,” she said. “Back of the bus, loser Lance.”
He took the seat behind her. A couple kids chortled. Abby jerked her chin, warning him to abandon his course.
“Excuse me,” Seanna said. “The restraining order says fifty feet.”
“You got a restraining order?” Keith said.
“Iwrotea restraining order. Either this loser leaves me alone or I kick his ass. Again.”
More chortles.
“I’ll move,” Lance said. “As soon as you give me back my money.”
The chortles turned to open guffaws.
“You’d have more luck getting blood from a gargoyle,” Keith said. “If Seanna conned you out of your pocket money, consider it payment for a lesson learned: don’t mess with a Walsh.”
Seanna settled into her seat with that smug smile. A few other kids high-fived each other. Walshes, all of them. One of the oldest families in Cainsville. And not an upstanding citizen in the lot of them.
Seanna and her kin proudly claimed an ancestry of con artists, pirates, and thieves, and in Cainsville, Walshes weretreated with as much respect as doctors, lawyers and priests. Don’t mess with them, and they wouldn’t mess with you. It was the barest whiff of a moral code, and somehow, that was good enough.
“She didn’t con me,” Lance said. “She picked my pocket.”
“Because you were stalking me again,” Seanna said. “Violating the terms of my restraining order. Consider it a fine. If you don’t want to pay, don’t get close enough.”
Even Abby nodded at that, giving Lance a look of mingled sympathy and exasperation. The boy who kept sticking his finger in the electrical outlet and expecting a different result.
“So you won’t return the money?” he said.
“Hell and no. Now get your skinny ass to the back of the bus before I kick it there.”
